


Who the hell is Bucky?

by Belsmomaus



Series: The Hell-Series [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bucky only appears in flashbacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Post CA:TWS, Post OUAT: season 3, kid!Bucky, kid!steve, mentions of mental instability later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 16:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4186035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belsmomaus/pseuds/Belsmomaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's search for Bucky leads him to Maine. Into a small town called Storybrooke.<br/>He didn't expect to actually find him there. Or some clues for that matter.<br/>He didn't expect anything at all.<br/>Least of all the mess he stumbled into.<br/>(It's not necessary to know anything about Once Upon A Time)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Storybrooke

**Author's Note:**

> So, after writing this post (http://belsmomaus.tumblr.com/post/121029184188/ever-since-this-sebastian-stan-obsession-has-hit) the idea of Steve in Storybrooke never let me go.  
> Although it developed into something totally different than I expected.
> 
> The whole story takes place a few weeks after Captain America: The Winter Soldier and one or two weeks after the finale of season 3 of Once Upon A Time (only without the appearance of Elsa at the end).  
> It's not necessary to know Once Upon A Time. It might help from time to time and it's easier to guess some things if you do, but you should understand it and be able to follow it even if you don't know the series. If it helps any: Steve has no idea either ;-)
> 
> The whole thing is already finished, it only needs some more polishing. So you don't need to fear that this will never be finished!
> 
> A big thanks to Padblack for checking everything for errors in my logic even though she's no fan of Steve or Bucky and has no idea about OUAT! So, thank you for alerting me to some unclear details and for acting as my guinea pig to test if it's necessary to know the series 'Once upon a time' or not. 
> 
> Have fun reading (at least as much as I had writing) :-)

Storybrooke.

Steve had literally stumbled upon the sedate small-town at the coast of Maine.

One moment he’d been driving on his bike through the endless forest that seemed to cover almost the entire state, with no sign of civilization anywhere and the next moment he spotted a city limit sign. He could’ve sworn that there hadn’t been a town on his map in this area when he’d checked it an hour earlier.

But only a few minutes later he’d found himself in this quiet little town, driving around aimlessly, looking around even if with not much hope. Not here anyway.

He stretched his back and his shoulders popped slightly. Even _his_ body protested after endless hours on a motorcycle. But Natasha had called him. She’d found a match on a security camera in Portland, Maine. And he hadn’t been able to _not_ follow this lead.

With a last look he made sure that his bike was properly parked, his shield secured against its front, before he stepped onto the sidewalk, heading towards the only diner he’d spotted so far. He’d just pop in for a much needed coffee and a snack and then head on.

It was a nice and sunny day and people were enjoying it. A group of teenagers was sitting at one of the tables in front of the diner, talking and laughing animatedly. Not far away a young couple stood at a bus stop, feeding each other spoonfuls of ice cream. Down the street he saw a man taking a Dalmatian for a walk, waving at someone passing by on a bicycle.

That’s when he spotted the guy crossing the street, judging by his course he was heading for the diner as well.

Steve couldn’t explain what it was, but something about him draw his eye. His black jeans were certainly nothing special. With his dark green shirt and a black vest he stood out comparing to all the other people who were dressed more casually. The matching green cravat around his neck was indeed unconventional, but still, that wasn’t _it_. There was something else about the dark haired man who gazed down the street, away from him.

He was ready to let it slide when the guy turned towards the diner.

It hit him.

It hit him hard.

Could it really be _that_ easy?

He felt his heart beat faster and his mouth reacted on instinct, his brain screaming about being careful, thinking this through, not endangering civilians, but it was already too late.

“BUCKY?”

His voice filled the street, making more than one curious head turn towards him. Not that he’d even noticed it.

The man on the street startled and stopped, looking around for the source of the voice.

Steve saw it first, wanted to warn him – his feet were already moving –, but the screech of a brake – one in desperate need of some oil – resounded loudly.

“Oy, watch it, man!”

Bucky startled again, jumping a step to the side at the sudden noise to his right where a young man on a bike came to a sudden and unexpected stop only inches away, cursing loudly. The cyclist waved his arm at Bucky in an angry manner before he rounded him and rode away, leaving without even waiting for an apology.

Bucky took the last two steps to the sidewalk, inhaling deeply with a hand against his chest. The fingers of his left hand wound into his short hair in a relieved gesture. He looked totally flustered.

And Steve realized his mistake.

That hand was flesh and blood.

No metal anywhere.

And all hope shattered again.

It _had_ been too easy!

Of _course_ this wasn’t Bucky. And if his hope for his friend hadn’t gotten in the way, hadn’t addled his brain, he’d seen the signs. Bucky was on the run, discretion was what he’d be aiming for, not sticking out in clothes like that. And Bucky wouldn’t look so flustered after a scene like that. The Bucky he’d known for all his life would have laughed it off, using his charm to placate the other man. And the soldier, the weapon, he’d been forced to become would have seen it coming or probably killed the cyclist on the spot. Maybe even both.

The thought hurt.

With a small shake of his head to get his thoughts straight again he quickly fell into a light jog towards the man with the cravat.

“Are you alright?”

The man looked up, his hand still in his hair. His mouth was slightly open and his blue eyes settled on him in a rattled expression.

_Bucky’s eyes!_

Steve was looking onto Bucky’s face. How was that even possible?

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

There was, however, no recognition in that oh so familiar face. At all.

 _There can’t be because he isn’t Bucky! Look at the arm! He’s not_ him _!_

“Sorry about that, by the way.”

Not-Bucky’s eyes narrowed a tiny bit. “Wasn’t your fault.”

Steve gave him an apologetic smile and shrugged. “Afraid so.”

Before he could say anything else the stranger’s eyes widened a bit. “You were the one shouting?” It didn’t sound right, as if he was aiming for annoyed but an undertone of curiosity got in the way.

With a sheepish grin he scratched his neck. “Yeah, that would be me. I’m really sorry for that. I mistook you for someone else. I didn’t intend to get you run over.”

The man just stared at him, the color suddenly draining from his face. He blinked a few times, swallowing hard, and dropped his left hand to his side.

It was trembling slightly.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Steve wasn’t sure what had just happened. Maybe the man had a weak heart and this little episode was a bit too much for him?

Whatever it was, Steve was responsible and he’d make sure that he was okay, even if it killed him.

Looking at him, speaking with him, with a man who looked like his friend but who wasn’t, while the real Bucky was out of his reach, who knows where, it was like torture.

The man blinked slowly and wetted his lips with his tongue. “Um… sorry? What was that? I didn’t… didn’t get that.”

Steve sighed inwardly, already regretting his decision.

“Why don’t you join me for a cup of coffee?” he asked, nodding towards the diner. “You look like you could need one.”

“Sure, I- I was heading there anyway. My name’s Jefferson, by the way.”

“Steve.”

He motioned for Jefferson to lead the way and followed him. He seemed steady enough so he ruled the heart problem out again.

Once they were seated in one of the few unoccupied booths a young brunette came over to get their order. The way her clothes hugged her curves very tightly reminded him of Natasha. Only if Natasha would look at him like _that_ – all flirty and curious – he’d be in fear for his life.

Few minutes later he had a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, while Jefferson stirred his tea absentmindedly.

“So, you’re not from around, are you?”

Those stark blue eyes were scrutinizing him. He didn’t lift his head up from his cup of tea, he merely looked up, which made Steve feel as if this Jefferson was searching for something in particular on his face. Whatever that might be.

“Not really. I’m just passing through.”

“Visiting someone?”

“More like looking for someone.”

Jefferson lifted one eyebrow, a lopsided grin on his lips. But it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something about that look he gave him, a strange kind of edginess. He absentmindedly rubbed his left wrist with his fingers. When he finally spoke, there was a wistful note to it.

“Must be someone special if you came all the way out here. In the middle of nowhere.”

That _look_ on the guy’s face.

He had to fight the urge to embrace him, to chase that barely masked sorrow from his gaze.

 _This man isn’t_ him!

So instead he nodded, unable to keep the images of his friend away that his words conjured, unbidden.

Bucky laughing at one of his jokes.

Bucky showing off on the dance floor to impress a few girls, visibly pleased with himself at his success.

Bucky leaning over a map, discussing their strategy with him.

Bucky hanging from a metal bar in a destroyed helicarrier, watching him fall, that lost and almost fearful, painful look in his eyes.

Steve closed his hands around the too hot cup, letting the heat burn away the images from his mind.

“Very special. He- He’s my best friend. I need to find him again.”

Jefferson fished the teabag out of his cup, wringing it around his spoon and dropping it on the saucer.

“And you mistook me for your friend?”

Steve couldn’t help the snort, shaking his head in the process. “You have _no_ idea! You really look just like him.”

And it was true, overall. It was the small things that were different. Bucky was broader around the chest and shoulders – especially since he became Hydra’s favorite weapon. Faint lines on Jefferson’s brow and a more prominent one between his eyes told of a life time of frowning rather than laughing. And even though Bucky had lived through some horrible stuff it had never marred his brow like that.

Jefferson pulled his hands around his cup, tracing random patterns across the china. Steve knew he did it to hide their trembling.

Maybe he had some other medical condition?

Or maybe he was just nervous. But why? Did he know something?

“Well, then he’s certainly not in Storybrooke. Two of me, that would have caused a stir already,” he laughed good-naturedly, playing with his spoon. Finally he grabbed his cup and took a sip. “What is his name?”

“Bucky.”

Jefferson opened his eyes wide in understanding and nodded. “Ah, so that’s what you were shouting out there. Bucky. Unusual name.”

Steve shrugged. “Well, you’re right. It’s short for Buchanan. Also not very common nowadays, I guess. Actually his first name’s James, but he never liked it.”

There it was again, that _look_. The other man’s eyes roamed his face as if looking for something. And then it was suddenly replaced by a tentative smile.

“I’m one to talk. Jefferson is hardly better.” He took another sip, tilting his head to the side, curiosity sparkling in those blue depths. “Why are you looking for him? Is he missing or something?”

Steve’s shoulders slumped and he leaned back heavily. “Something like that, yeah. I failed him. He’s always been there for me and I’ve failed him when he needed me most.” He exhaled audibly and rubbed a hand over his face. “I need to find him again. I need to make it up to him. Make things right again.”

When he finally glanced up again, Jefferson also leaned back, his hands limp on the table, a quizzical, yet intense and serious look on his face. The slight downward curve of his lips made him look sad.

“Tell me about him.”

_Tell me about him._

How could he possibly find words that lived up to the man who’d always been at his side? Who’d protected him his whole life without ever making him feel weak. How could he describe a man who’d been the most loyal person he’d ever known? How could he put in words what he’d become?

Again images of their time together flashed before his eyes, warming his soul and making his stomach clench at the same time.

So he decided to start simple.

“We grew up together. He moved into the neighborhood with his family when we were six. You won’t believe me, but- I’ve been a pretty sickly kid.” A doubting snort and a raised eyebrow told him that his estimation had been correct. “One of the other boys had stolen my inhaler, taunting me by holding it out of my reach. Bucky punched him in the face and got it back for me. We’ve been inseparable from then on. He was the first one to treat me normal. He wasn’t mean to me, he didn’t laugh at me and most of all he wasn’t patronizing me. And I made sure he had someone when he felt lonely.”

“Lonely? I thought he had family?” Jefferson asked with a frown, coughing lightly after his voice failed him at the last words.

Steve took a deep breath. Talking about that stuff, about events that were gone for decades, it felt strangely good. Liberating.

“His family wasn’t his real family.” Part of him wondered why he told all this. To a stranger nonetheless.

 _Because you’re talking to him_.

_You’re practically talking to Bucky, that’s what makes it so easy._

He closed his eyes for a moment. That was it. He was looking into Bucky’s face the whole time, which made him feel at ease, made his tongue loose. He had to be careful. “His parents had adopted him only six months before I met him. He liked them, but sometimes, he felt alone and unwanted. I knew he _missed_ _something_ , but he barely ever talked about anything from _before_.”

He’d never spoken of this to anyone other than Bucky.

This was personal stuff, he shouldn’t…

A movement in front of him tore him out of his ruminations.

Jefferson stared at him, wide-eyed, one of his hands covering his open mouth, the other one hovering just above the table, unsure what to do. The raw emotions in those familiar blue eyes took his breath away. Something had happened, something…

Disbelief, joy, hope, caution.

It was all there, jumbled together, barely distinguishable at all.

Was it something he’d said?

“Bucky.”

It was barely more than a breath, a whisper.

Or a prayer.

Jefferson said that name the same way he did sometimes.

Tangled with memory, with love and hope and anguish.

And he just _knew_.

“You know him.”

Blue eyes started glistening as tears welled up in Jefferson’s eyes. Tears that he blinked away furiously while biting his bottom lip.

“He’s my brother.”

 

(TBC)


	2. My fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that shock Steve tries to get to the bottom of it all.

“You know him.”

Blue eyes started glistening as tears welled up in Jefferson’s eyes. Tears that he blinked away furiously while biting his bottom lip.

“He’s my brother.”

* * *

 

Steve could feel his mouth go slack.

 _Brother_.

The word reverberated through his skull. The only thing that filled the void of his shocked mind for a moment.

_No!_

Defiance, born of jealousy, sent him into a mental denial even before his brain had a chance to latch on to the information. If anyone, _Steve_ was Bucky’s brother. They’d lived through so much together, could always count on the other. They might not share the same blood but they _were_ brothers!

“Twin, actually.” The voice was so low he barely understood him. One of his hands fiddled with the end of his cravat, keeping busy by twirling the edge over and over while he was still fighting a battle against his tears.

 _Twins, it makes sense. Just_ look _at him._

His thoughts were spiraling. He needed a moment. A moment to think. Slowly he leaned forward, wiping his hands down his face before he placed his elbows on the table, his folded hands in front of his mouth.

And then it hit him. His overwhelmed brain latching on to it, grabbing on to the logical way out.

“That’s impossible!” He blurted out before he realized that he couldn’t voice what was on his mind. Not without giving away classified information – or sounding totally crazy.

_Bucky was born almost a century ago._

His outburst had at least distracted Jefferson from his tears, sobering him up somewhat. A hurt expression crossed his face before the lines on his brow deepened into anger.

This guy had no right to be angry!

 _Steve_ was angry. He didn’t like being lied to, especially not concerning Bucky!

“You’re not the same age!” he finally said, his voice carefully void of his emotions.

That stopped the outburst that he’d seen coming instantly.

Maybe now that this guy knew that he’d been debunked Steve could get to the bottom of this. He knew that something was amiss here and now he wanted to know what.

But instead of unease or irritation at being found out, Jefferson – if that even was his name – seemed startled by this new information. He mumbled something unintelligible about 28 years.

“Okay, listen. What is your game here? And this time: don’t lie to me!”

“What?” Jefferson jumped, his hand bumping his cup, nearly spilling the rest of his forgotten tea. “I’m not lying.” He was frantic now. Not the ‚oh god, he’s onto me, what should I do‘ kind of frantic, more in the line of ‚you have to believe me, I’m desperate, don’t disregard me, please’.

“He _is_ my brother. Please, you have to believe me. I- I can’t prove it, but it’s true. It was an accident, a bloody accident, but I lost him. I’ve never been whole again since that dreadful day. He was… he _is_ a part of me. Losing him- it just ripped me apart. Please! Don’t leave! I- I’ve been searching for him for _so_ long, but I’ve never- You’re the first lead I’ve got. I’m telling you the truth. I swear!”

Completely taken aback by the onslaught of despair Steve could do nothing but watch it unfold. The words had tumbled out of Jefferson’s mouth faster and faster, leaving the man out of breath now. At some time he’d reached out to grab Steve’s hand as if to keep him from leaving.

And Steve just knew that this guy _was_ telling the truth. Not even Natasha could fake this amount of torment and desperation. Okay, maybe she could, but that wasn’t the point here.

This guy at least _thought_ his words to be the truth.

Steve needed to look into it. He’d do anything to wipe _that_ look from Jefferson’s face, if only to stop his stomach churning with his own inner turmoil at seeing someone with Bucky’s face in that much pain.

“Okay, calm down. I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

Jefferson’s eyes searched his face again, maybe for his intentions or his sincerity. He seemed to find what he was looking for because something in his gaze finally relaxed and he slumped down with a loud exhale of breath.

Steve noticed the waitress glancing their way, skeptically narrowing her brow.

Jefferson pulled back slowly, letting his hand go. With a shaky breath he raked his hands over his face and then through his hair, looking very tired all of a sudden.

No matter if they were talking about the same Bucky or not, this guy had lost someone very dear to him and Steve knew exactly how that felt. That’s why he asked in a low voice: “Tell me about him.”

It took a moment but then, slowly, a fond smile tugged at Jefferson’s lips.

“His real name is Buckley, but our parents only used it when they’d been really angry. Well, even with all the mischief we did they rarely got _that_ pissed. I guess we gave them quite a hard time sometimes. Mostly we spent our time in the woods behind our house, pretending to be knights on a mission to capture an evil sorcerer.”

Steve could practically see the small boy that had once gotten him his inhaler back, mischief in his eyes and a wooden sword in his hands, trudging through a forest with all the importance of a knight.

Jefferson sighed, his lips slightly trembling when reality turned his happy memories into melancholy and loss. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, only reluctantly releasing it while deep in thought. When his gaze met his, vulnerable and intense at the same time, he knew he’d been bracing himself for something.

“What happened to him? I mean, why is he missing?”

Steve swallowed. Even with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s and Hydra’s databases out in the open almost nothing about Bucky or the Winter Soldier was public knowledge. Speculations about a ghost hadn’t made it into the official files at S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had kept their records clean of any specific details to keep their greatest weapon a secret. He still wondered where Natasha had gotten the file on Bucky.

His best friend’s history wasn’t exactly classified but he was reluctant to share. It would certainly do no good to inform the public that a highly trained killer was running around god knows where. And he would hurt this man only further, if he told him everything. He would imagine his brother in his Bucky’s place, but it was impossible that they were talking about the same Bucky. It just couldn’t be.

Then why did it feel so right?

Although everything reasonable in him screamed that this wasn’t possible, that there was an insurmountable time difference between those two persons, there was also that tiny part – may it be intuition or wishful thinking or whatever – that _wanted_ it to be true. That wanted to find a connection to Bucky, someone who understood his pain.

And this man deserved at least _something_ of an answer.

He wouldn’t lie, but maybe he didn’t have to reveal everything.

And before he was aware of making a decision he heard himself talking already.

“Bucky was a soldier. We were in the same unit. He was- he was killed in action. At least that’s what we thought. I should have checked, should have found a way to make sure, but…”

Actually voicing the source of his guilt made his stomach clench even harder than usual. “He’d survived, but it was our enemies who found him. I- they put him back together, but they also- they did things-,” he couldn’t say it, but the words ‘torture’ hung almost tangible in the air.

“When I last saw him,” this time he was the one raking his hand through his hair, “that wasn’t Bucky anymore. He was cold and empty and had no idea who I was. They had turned him into a weapon, a cold-blooded murderer who killed without a thought as long as they told him to.”

_Who the hell is Bucky?_

_You are my mission._

Steve screwed his eyes shut against the memories.

He was an idiot. He’d said much more than he’d planned to.

He shouldn’t have told Jefferson these things.

The squeaking of leather made his eyes snap open only to see a flash of green that passed him in a hurry and vanished outside.

“What the…” The waitress was suddenly next to him, glowering down at him, her hands at her hips.

He had no time for this.

Without any further hesitation he stood up, fished a twenty out of his jeans and placed it on the table with a somewhat forced smile and a nod. He didn’t spare the other occupants of the diner any attention on his way out. On the street he looked left and right, scanning the area for Jefferson.

He wasn’t far. A few feet down on the other side of the street he saw him vanish into a side road. Quickly he followed, looking out for cars on the street. He found him leaning against the rough exterior wall of a house with his shoulder, back turned towards Steve. His shoulders were shaking and his breath hitched when he sagged even further against the wall.

_Way to go, Steve. Tell the guy who thinks he’s found a lead on his long lost brother that said brother was tortured and brainwashed and was now a murderer. Great job!_

Groaning at his own stupidity he stepped towards the troubled man.

“Jefferson?”

When he didn’t react Steve gently placed his hand on his shoulder and turned him around a bit.

The guy was a mess. A multitude of emotions warred on his face, shock and terror definitely on the winning side. His jaw was trembling and this time he wasn’t able to blink his tears away. They painted glistening streaks across his cheeks. His left hand was clutched against his neck, the other one around his left wrist.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Jefferson looked up and right into his eyes. Steve felt his heart skip a beat. He’d seen that look once before, lost and confused and overwhelmed. And so full of pain. On the helicarrier. Right after he’d told Bucky that he’d be with him till the end of the line.

“You don’t understand!” Jefferson implored with a raspy voice. „It’s my fault. It’s all my bloody fault! It was my idea to take the hat. We shouldn’t have. Father had forbidden us, but we were children. Just children! Oh god, I did this to him.” His head dropped and as if his own words sank in only then, he staggered, his voice a broken echo of before. “I did this to him.”

Steve had no idea what the guy was talking about. But it didn’t matter. Not right now.

With a sure motion he grabbed Jefferson’s shoulders and propelled him with his back against the wall. The impact enough to startle him out of his stupor but not hurting him.

“Listen to me: it’s NOT your fault! The only ones at fault here are the ones who did this to him, understood?”

He nodded weakly. Most likely too stunned to do anything else.

He blinked a few times and straightened up with a staggering but deep breath, shaking his head as if to clear it. After a final exhale he nodded at Steve to let go of him. As soon as he did he wiped the tears off his face, surprisingly calm again.

As if he was used to episodes like this. To heavy outbursts of emotion and the need for a quick recovery. Or he was worryingly good at putting his emotional turmoil aside for a later observation.

No matter the reason, at the moment he looked anywhere but at Steve, the soft hint of red on his cheekbones indicating that he was embarrassed by his behavior.

“Maybe…” Jefferson started, unsure. Hopeful. „Maybe we should take this somewhere more private?“

Good idea. Neither the diner nor the middle of the street were adequate places for a conversation like theirs. And at this point he really wanted to hear Jefferson’s story. All of it. He needed to know if it could actually be possible that he was Bucky’s twin.

No matter how slim the chances were.

He owed it to Bucky.

So he nodded. “Yeah, you’ve got somewhere in mind?”

“My house…” A bell rang, most likely from the nearby bell tower that he’d seen earlier.

From one moment to the next Jefferson’s eyes grew wide. He jerked his hand up to check his watch. “FUCK! The docks! Dammit!“

Nervous energy filled the other man from head to toe. Suddenly he grabbed for Steve’s arm and tugged him along, impatiently.

“Come on. _Hurry_!”

Perplexed Steve followed Jefferson along the street to an expensive looking car around the corner – well, ‘ran after him’ would be more fitting.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when they reached the car and the other man fumbled for his keys. A jingling sound followed by a click told Steve that the car was open.

Jefferson captured his gaze over the car, gesturing hectically with his hand to get inside. “Grace, I need to pick her up!”

As if that meant anything to Steve.

He got in the car anyway, intrigued by this strange man with Bucky’s face and an impossible story.

 

(TBC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love it?  
> Hate it?  
> Whatever it is, feel free to share you opinion in the comment section!
> 
> See you next week with a new chapter :-)


	3. Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets Grace. And a white carpet.  
> Two unexpected challenges, although very different ones.  
> But nothing compares to the challenge of starting the much needed conversation with Jefferson...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos so far!  
> I hope you enjoy this new chapter just as much, although it's more of a filler until the real stuff starts in the next one.
> 
> Have fun!

Steve’s fingers were splayed against the side of the car, his whole body tense.

“You might wanna slow down a bit, pal!”

Jefferson mumbled something, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, but at least he did take it down a notch.

They were driving through town, disregarding the speed limit, until Steve could make out the glinting surface of the ocean between the rows of houses. A short while later the car stopped next to an open area that lead down directly to the docks where lots of small boats were tied to different lines of jetties.

A group of four people stood near the sidewalk, two adults and two teenagers, looking up as they noticed the car.

Jefferson practically jumped out and headed their way, he even forgot to close the door again. But at least that gave Steve the opportunity to hear them talking.

“Grace! I’m so sorry, honey.“

One of the teenagers, a young girl, maybe thirteen, stepped towards him, a smile on her face.

“It’s alright, Papa. I had good company.”

Jefferson laid an arm around her and pulled her into an affectionate half-hug before he let her go, nodding towards a backpack that lay a few feet away where the group had previously waited. “Get your stuff.”

The girl obliged, accompanied by the other teenager – a dark-haired boy.

Meanwhile a blond woman in tight jeans approached Jefferson. “You’re late. It’s not like you to miss the pick-up date after these school events. What happ…” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Are you alright?”

Jefferson nodded, the motion a bit too jerky to be considered convincing. “Yeah, fine, I just… something came up.”

The guy who was with the woman – he was clothed all in black – raised an eyebrow and fixed his eyes on Jefferson. “You sure, mate? You look like hell.”

“Really, I’m alright. Thank you for waiting with Grace.“ He awkwardly scratched behind his ear, jumping at the opportunity of leaving when the young girl came back.

He took her backpack and her cardigan that she’d been carrying over her arm, while the girl waved her goodbyes at the other people.

The man in black waved back and – in turning to go – placed his arm around the blond woman. Something flashed at his left hand in the bright sun, something metallic. Something that looked like… a hook?

Steve wanted to take a closer look when Jefferson and Grace blocked his view.

“Grace, we have a guest this evening.” He opened the back door and the girl hopped in, clearly surprised at seeing someone else in the car. “This is Steve. He’s from out of town, making a trip through the area. He’ll join us for dinner, if that’s alright with you?”

The last part was directed at Steve, nevertheless the girl nodded.

“Sure,” Steve said. The last time he’d eaten was hours ago and his stomach was starting to make its displeasure known.

“Good.”

The door closed and the trunk opened when Jefferson put Grace’s stuff away.

A daughter.

Jefferson had a daughter.

Upon hearing the name ‘Grace’ he’d thought her to be his wife or girlfriend or something, he’d never thought about a daughter.

And with a pang he realized that he was still thinking in terms of Bucky. Being confronted with the face of his best friend his brain was falling back in familiar thinking patterns even if he thought he’d managed to separate those two persons in his mind. Obviously he hadn’t.

“Hi Steve. I’m Grace,” the girl introduced herself, curiosity alight in her eyes. Eyes the same vibrant shade of blue as her father’s. “You must be interested in one of Papa’s maps then, right?”

Not knowing what else to do or say he nodded. Maps?

“His one’s are the best. Really! You want to go someplace specific?”

He wasn’t prepared for this situation, trying to make something plausible up on the spot. “No, just- you know- a bit of hiking. I’ve never been to Maine before.”

Finally Jefferson entered the car again, asking Grace questions about her school trip out to the bay, giving Steve time to get his bearings back.

It was amazing, the other man seemed absolutely calm and at ease on the outside, but he couldn’t be, not after everything they’d talked about.

It was hard for him to watch and listen to their interaction, the familiarity with which they talked to each other and the domesticity of their topics. He had to look away, his eyes following the houses rapidly flying by behind his window.

This was what he would’ve wished for Bucky. A family, a happy life instead of the pain and chaos that had ripped his future apart.

_“What are you gonna do when this is all over?”_

_“You know, I never really thought about this before, but… being held captive and… you know… it kind of puts everything in a new perspective. Getting a job, settling down with a lovely girl sounds actually like a pretty good plan at the moment. If I manage to find a woman, that is, with being invisible nowadays.”_

Steve blinked against the memory, still seeing the dark interior of the bar in front of his eyes. It had been shortly after he’d rescued his friend and the rest of the captured soldiers from the Red Skull. Even after all this time Bucky’s humble seriousness, but also his grin later and his playing at a hurt expression were still fresh on his mind.

He had to find a way to give it back. To find his friend and put that cheeky grin back on that face again.

He clenched his jaw in determination. Or maybe at hearing Jefferson laugh at something Grace had said. A laugh that sounded exactly like Bucky’s.

 

 

The brown towel felt incredibly soft between his fingers, distracting him from his own stupidity. Leave it to him to put his foot in his host’s mouth.

Carefully Steve put the towel back on its rack next to the wash basin. Most likely it was expensive, like all the other stuff in this house.

Jefferson had driven them down a narrow road out of town and into the woods to a mansion. A freaking _mansion_. Sure, his shirt and vest looked like they were tailored but he’d never thought this man to be rich.

And he had to be to life in this house.

The man was full of surprises.

Jefferson had led him through a big entrance area full of modern art, through a corridor, passing a few doors until he finally found himself in a gigantic kitchen. Seriously, the kitchen alone took up almost as much space as the apartment he’d lived with his parents had. Everything was chrome and grey and clean. Steve had been reminded of Stark, only this kind of expensive interior felt more homey.

There’d been some plants and a clay figure that seemed to be made by someone inexperienced stood proudly on display in a shelf. Boxes of cereals lined up on the counter next to the fridge and a big bowl of fresh fruits brought color to the room.

The room had opened into a large sitting area with a big table where he’d been instructed to sit down while Jefferson had started to cook, declining his offer to help. In the end he’d been glad, he’d needed the time to adjust to this new situation, time to think. So he’d watched him cut vegetables and fry hash until Grace came back from packing her stuff away and started making tea.

Time had flown by rather quickly because suddenly dinner was ready. Jefferson had set the table for the three of them. And he had blurted it out, the question, without thinking it through. “Is Grace’s mother not joining us?”

He should have realized the signs. No female shoes at the wardrobe. Not once has there been any mentioning of his wife or her mother during the whole car ride.

The sudden silence had told him all he needed to know, even before Jefferson’s awkward statement. “No, it’s just us. Priscilla- she died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He’d excused himself to the bathroom then to wash his hands – and to extract himself from the uncomfortable situation.

And here he was now. Wondering about his own insensitivity and how his search for Bucky had turned into a family dinner with a guy who looked like his friend.

Heaving a sigh he left the room, trailing his way back through the corridor when he heard Grace’s voice.

“What’s going on, Papa?”

Steve halted a few feet away from the door.

“Mmh?” was his absentminded reply.

“That’s exactly what I mean. You’re- you’re not yourself today. You’re distracted. What’s wrong?”

So Jefferson had been able to fool him – a stranger – with his collected exterior but not his daughter.

He heard a sigh and the soft thump of something that had been placed on a surface. “You noticed, huh?”

“It’s something about this man, isn’t it? Steve? What does a stranger want from you? He’s not going to kidnap you, isn’t he?”

“Oh Grace, no, no. There’s nothing to worry about, okay?” Jefferson said with a gentle and soothing voice. “I just need to- there’s something I need to find out. Steve is helping me with that.”

“Okay,” she sounded reluctant. “Will you tell me about it?”

“I promise.”

Steve took that moment to get back, making his steps a bit louder than necessary to alert them of his coming. He felt a bit guilty for listening in but he hadn’t wanted to interrupt father and daughter. But he was also dwelling on the comment about kidnapping. Why would the girl think he wanted to kidnap her father?

“Wow! That smells delicious.”

And it did.

Together they ate the spaghetti Bolognese Jefferson had made, Grace digging in after her adventurous day out on the ocean and Steve was famished after his long and unexpected day. Only Jefferson seemed to have no appetite, after a few bites he merely pushed the pasta around on his plate.

Grace asked Steve some questions about where he came from and how he knew her father, nothing he couldn’t manage this time around.

After their meal Jefferson cleared the table and Grace excused herself with some homework and an episode of some show she’d love to watch. After a last ‘don’t stay up too late’ from her father she left and her steps on the stairs indicated that they were finally alone.

Jefferson leaned against the counter and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Steve wondered if he felt the same confusing mixture of hope, anticipation and dread.

A few moments passed by before the other man stepped away and headed for a sliding door at the other end of the room.

“Follow me.”

He pushed the white wood open and Steve followed him into what seemed to be a living room or a lounging area. A big white couch with red and black-and-white cushions dominated the room. Behind it – and next to another door – stood a gleaming piano. A fireplace, stucco and expensive looking wall-covering in earthy tones gave the room both a snobbish but also a comfortable air.

Steve was still pondering if he should really step onto that plushy white carpet with his boots still on – he’d been told upon entering the house that he needn’t bother with taking them off, but this carpet was _white_ – when he heard the telltale ‘clink’ of glass against glass. Looking up he found Jefferson next to an open cabinet full of bottles and glasses. He raised a dark bottle, questioning.

“Scotch?”

Knowing that it wouldn’t help him in any way and that he didn’t like the taste he shook his head.

Jefferson shrugged and poured a generous amount into a tumbler. He closed the cabinet and let himself fall heavily onto the couch, tumbler in his hand – and his shoes quite obviously on the white carpet.

“Well, _I_ certainly need a drink!” And just like that he knocked back almost half of his glass.

Slowly Steve stepped closer and sat down at the other end of the L-shaped sofa so they could face each other.

“Alright, don’t get me wrong, I really believe that you’ve lost your brother and that he was very dear to you. You feel responsible and you want to get him back, I really get that. But I just don’t see how your Bucky can be the same as mine.”

Jefferson was still slumped against the cushions; his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles and his head leaning back. He merely turned it a little to fix Steve with a tired gaze. “Why?”

While he’d been watching the other man cook, he’d decided to be open with him. On one hand they wouldn’t get anywhere if they didn’t tell each other true facts and on the other hand he didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up because he was too cryptic.

The only problem was that he had no idea if the guy even knew who Steve was. So far none of the inhabitants of this town had shown any sign of recognition. And as much as he enjoyed the freedom that came with it, after everything that’d happened those last years it was strange to say the least.

“Have you ever heard of Captain America?” he asked bluntly.

Jefferson’s eyes narrowed. “Captain who?”

Alright, that’s a no. He tried again, there had to be some common ground somewhere. “Have you heard of the recent events in Washington D.C.? The destruction of the Triskelion? Three giant flying carriers shooting each other out of the sky?”

He knew it even before he got a reaction, the look on Jefferson’s face said it all. The man had never heard of any of it. But it had been all over the news, how could he have missed it?

“What are you talking about?” Jefferson sat up a bit straighter.

“The Battle of New York maybe?” Steve tried it again. One last time.

And this time there was some recognition there. Frowning, his gaze turned inward, clearly thinking.

“Yeah, Grace told me something she’d heard from a friend who’d recently been to New York. Something about an attack? How is that in any way related to my brother?” he asked with a hint of irritation.

 _Okay, this won’t work this way, think of something else_.

“Forget about it,” he sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees and rubbing the knuckle of his thumb along one eyebrow.

“Look, I know this sounds crazy, but Bucky – the Bucky _I_ know – was born 1917.”

 

(TBC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Jefferson's wife I used the name Priscilla that's presented in the graphic novel 'Out of the past'. 
> 
> I wasn't sure about Grace' age but I oriented myself by the age of the actress and Henry's age. So I put them together in the same class. Maybe I just like the thought of them being friends *g*.
> 
> So, I'm looking forward to your comments :)


	4. Completely mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to make Jefferson see reason, to make him see that they were talking about different Buckys.   
> Never in a thousand years could he have forseen THIS reaction!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever 'Stark' is mentioned it refers to Tony, not Howard.
> 
> A big "Thank you" to ghostwriter107 and Becky for their lovely comments! 
> 
> Have fun, everyone!  
> I certainly had it writing this chapter!

“Look, I know this sounds crazy, but Bucky – the Bucky _I_ know – was born 1917.”

* * *

 

Now this made Jefferson sit up and lean forward, mimicking Steve’s own pose, but with his chin in one hand. He was listening intently, his former frown never leaving his brow. Steve wondered why he didn’t immediately declare how stupid and impossible that sounded.

Instead he was pondering, completely calm: “How come you’re both still alive?”

“I volunteered for a special program to create a kind of super-soldier. It made me stronger, more resilient. So when I crashed a bomber into the arctic and got frozen in, I was able to survive when I was thawed 70 years later.”

Jefferson regarded him with observant eyes, letting his gaze wander from head to toe. He didn’t question a word he’d said. Which was strange given how ludicrous his own story must sound to an outsider. “And Bucky? What did they do to him to preserve his life?”

Steve bit his lip. He remembered the file, every single piece of it. Maybe Natasha had been right and he shouldn’t have pulled on that thread, but he couldn’t just leave Bucky to find his way alone after everything.

“He was experimented on by an enemy scientist. They tried to make him like me, only a version that wouldn’t question them, that would do their bidding. They wiped his memory and trained him and when he fulfilled their expectations they froze him in a cryogenic chamber. They wanted to make the most of their new weapon, only taking him out of the chamber when they had a special mission. He looked barely a day older when I saw him again a few weeks ago.”

Steve’s voice had lost volume the longer he spoke of these terrible things that conjured images in his mind he’d rather not see. At the forefront the picture from the file, showing his friend, frozen.

Jefferson’s jaw was working, his eyes closed and his hand with the tumbler trembling. Was he just very sympathetic or did he _still_ think the person Steve was talking about was his brother?

“You have to see that we cannot be talking about the same person. Right?”

Either the other man hadn’t heard him or he wasn’t listening on purpose, at least he gave no answer to the question. He just sat there with closed eyes, but soon the straining muscles of his clenched jaw relaxed and his pained expression made way for the deep lines and pursed lips of mulling something over.

Maybe he was calculating? Desperately finding a way to make the numbers work so he wouldn’t lose the link to his brother? His twin?

And why wasn’t he questioning anything Steve had said?

Was he so desperate for a clue about his brother that he was ready to accept anything?

Maybe he really was.

Suddenly his face smoothed out, his eyes opened but they stared straight ahead at nothing in particular.

“It must have been the potions. Who knows what those vials had contained. It’s the only explanation.” He suddenly looked up, the blue of his eyes gleaming with certainty and new hope in the warm evening light that shone through the windows. “He was transported back in time!”

_Come again?_

Steve couldn’t follow anymore. Potions? Time travel?

He remembered that even Stark had proclaimed that with current knowledge it was only possible to travel into the future, not the past – well, theoretically – there was still something that prevented… the scientific stuff behind it had been really way beyond his understanding.

“What are you even talking about?”

Jefferson jumped up and started pacing, practically bouncing with nervous energy all of a sudden.

“What I’m talking about is, that there’s a possibility that my brother is the man you grew up with. It all makes sense!” He nearly spilled his scotch when he threw his arms wide open as if to encompass everything. A chuckle suddenly bubbled out of him, turning into a loud laugh, half relieved and half happy. And there was something else, something disconcerting.

These mood changes really started to bother Steve. The only good thing coming from it was that it made distinguishing him from Bucky easier.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. Fine. You listened to my crazy story. It’s only fair if I do the same. So why don’t you sit down again, take a deep breath and talk to me?”

Coming here had been a mistake. Getting this man’s hopes up had been a mistake.

Steve feared that he’d scratched open an old wound in Jefferson without knowing, one that might have better been left untouched. But he was in too deep now. At least he would hear him out, it was only fair. If things escalated- well, then he’d deal with it. It was his fault after all.

Jefferson’s laughing died down – thank god – and for a moment he regarded Steve as if he was dumb or something for not following his train of thought. He raised his free hand, index finger pointing up and he nodded slowly: “Oh, right. Of course.”

He took a deep sip of his scotch before he placed the tumbler on the coffee table and resumed his pacing.

“It’s all about the hat, you see? Bucky and I were alone, not for long, but father was at the market and mother had to go to the neighbors for something. The important thing is, we were alone and we found father’s hat.”

Steve frowned. He’d mentioned a hat earlier, too. What’s got a hat to do with any of this?

He sat up straighter, his eyes never leaving Jefferson who paced back and forth between the door next to the piano and the fireplace. His hands were in constant movement, emphasizing his words or raking through his hair. And every now and then he threw a glance towards Steve as if to calculate his reaction.

“We knew we shouldn’t touch it, he told us more than once, but it was _there_. So we played being portal jumpers, just like our father, but when we threw it on the floor it suddenly activated. The portal knocked the cupboard with father’s work stuff over. I remember the vials. I don’t know what kinds of potions they were but they fell into the opening portal and suddenly everything crackled and sparks flew all around. The wind grew stronger and stronger and the portal started wavering and glowing. It never does that!

“Bucky fell. I tried to grab him, but I missed. The portal sucked him in. He screamed. God, I’ll never forget those screams. And then he was gone. As was the portal but the hat was still there. The hat never stays! _Never_! The magic must have done something to the portal and transported him not just to another realm but to another time as well. That’s why I could never find him!”

Steve sat frozen to his place on the couch.

This was absolutely crazy!

This guy had a serious problem.

Magic? Potions? Time travelling portals made by a _hat_?

_Leave it to me to find the only crazy guy with delusions about someone called Bucky on my search for_ my _Bucky who actually looks like_ Bucky _!_

Something about that hat nagged at his mind, though. He just couldn’t put a finger on it.

Or maybe it wasn’t the hat itself. He had seen portals and Mjöllnir’s powers certainly looked like magic although Thor repeatedly claimed it to be science. But a _hat_?

And judging by the looks of it, it seemed pretty unlikely that this guy had any connection with Asgard.

With a tired sigh he burrowed his face in his hands for a moment. Then he got up, fixing the ranting man with his fine clothes with pained sympathy. “I think this has gone on long enough. I better go, I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Maybe it would be best if you weren’t alone right now. Is there anyone you could call over?”

And with just these few words Jefferson deflated, all that bubbling energy, that nervous fidgeting gone from one second to the next. His arms fell limp to his sides, his shoulders sagged and his head drooped to his chest. With his hair standing up every which way from his nervous hands and his down turned mouth he was the picture of defeat. But it was the silent pain in his eyes that made Steve swallow hard.

This whole day he’d never had to fight the urge to hug this guy and make things better like this moment.

And everything just because of his _damn_ face!

“You don’t believe me.”

His heart clenched and a cold shiver ran along his spine. Why did this feel so _wrong_?

“You’re talking about time travel and magical hats… how could I?” he asked gently, careful, as if to avoid hurting him even further.

Jefferson huffed. “Right.”

With shuffling steps he crossed the room towards the couch. He fell back onto it like a puppet which’s strings got cut, as if all life had just left him. His head lolled back against a cushion, his eyes closed.

“Maybe it’s my punishment. For failing Bucky. Sitting in this damn house, telling the truth but no one’s willing to believe it.”

Steve could only stare. The man was the picture of dejection, as if his world was just falling to pieces.

He had no idea what to do.

In that moment he looked so much like Bucky when his first real girlfriend had ended the relationship in favor of an older guy. A dentist.

He moved across the room before he even knew what he was doing, kneeling down at the end of the couch. Gently he placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, unsure what to say.

Jefferson startled at his touch. His eyes snapped open in an instant, only to close again with a half-relieved, half-annoyed sigh. “You’re still here,” he stated flatly.

“Is there anyone I can call? I can’t just leave you here like this.”

A chuckle broke free of Jefferson’s lips, a sudden and violent sound that could just as easily have been a sob. It was hard to tell.

“Just leave!”

Steve had not the slightest clue what to do. The only thing he knew was that he couldn’t _just leave_.

Grace!

He’d search for the girl and ask her to get help. Poor girl. She shouldn’t see her father like this. But it couldn’t be helped.

Slowly he rose back to his feet, breaking contact with the other man and turned towards the door, when Jefferson’s quiet voice made him stop again.

“You should leave town, you know. This is no place for someone like you.”

Against better judgement he gave in to his curiosity.

“And why’s that?”

A soft rustling filled the quiet room and when Steve turned around he stared directly into Jefferson’s sad blue eyes. The man had merely turned his head to the side and opened his eyes. There was no fight left in him.

“Because you’re in Storybrooke!”

Steve cocked an eyebrow at that. He should’ve known that he wouldn’t get a meaningful answer.

“Everyone in this goddamn town is a character from your so called _fairytales_. Snow White and Jiminy Cricket and Red Riding Hood. Each and every one of them victim to a curse of the Evil Queen. Magic is all around you, Steve, if you want to believe it or not. You want to know why I’ve never heard of Captain America or Washington or New York? Because it’s too confusing to keep track of the outside world with us jumping back to the Enchanted Forest and getting back here again, losing our memories and getting them back again. And up until lately, this town has been busy with fighting off the Wicked Witch and her flying monkeys. That’s why.”

Again Steve could only stare, stunned. This was worse than he’d thought.

And before he could stop himself it just slipped from his mouth: “You’re completely mad!”

Jefferson cringed, screwing his eyes shut for a moment, as if in pain. As he opened them again, he didn’t look directly at Steve, but the deeply hurt expression was hard to miss. As was his broken whisper.

“Don’t call me that.”

Steve felt sorry the moment the words had slipped his lips but the feeling only intensified at Jefferson’s reaction. As if he’d been punched in the gut his stomach muscles clenched and his shoulders pulled up to his ears. He couldn’t take this a moment longer, this _hurt_ on the face that he’d looked at for strength for so many years.

Within seconds he was back at the couch, kneeling on the carpet next to it.

Dull blue eyes followed his movements, sluggish and indifferent.

“I’m sorry.”

And he meant it, pouring all of his honesty into those two words.

The ghost of a smile played across Jefferson’s lips. It was an unbelieving one.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Look,” Steve began while placing a hand on the other man’s lower arm in a comforting gesture, “why don’t you stay right here and I go looking for Grace to get you some…”

He never got to finish his train of thought.

Like a scalded cat Jefferson snapped upright, what little color he’d left drained in an instant. Panic oozed off of his rigid form and clouded his wide eyes.

“Not Grace!” he uttered, his voice shaking.

Shocked at this unexpected turn of events – why was he still surprised by this guy’s mood swings – Steve acted on instinct. He grabbed Jefferson by his upper arms to keep him from hurting himself and to ground him in his swirl of emotions. Emotions Steve wasn’t sure he comprehended. Carefully he turned the other man a bit so that they were facing each other, more or less. He had to look up a bit since he was kneeling and Jefferson was sitting on the couch.

Just as he was about to say something to calm the man down – something that wouldn’t be easy judging by the totally frantic look in his eyes – Jefferson surprised him again. He grabbed onto Steve’s T-shirt, clasping his hands into the fabric as if his life depended on it.

“Not Grace!” he repeated with desperation.

“Okay, okay. Not Grace, I promise!” Steve got it. The man didn’t want his daughter to see him like this. He understood, but that left him again with the problem of how to solve this mess.

At least Jefferson seemed to calm down at his words. His body sagged as the tension left him and his head sank down to his chest. His hands never released their strong grip on Steve’s shirt, but they started trembling. The same time as his fast and ragged breaths started hitching.

“I just want him back.”

 

(TBC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jefferson...   
> I'm really sorry to leave him at this point, but at least I know he's safe with Steve around until the next chapter *g*
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	5. Similarities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple gesture from Jefferson sparks some of Steve's memories.  
> And sheds light on similarities that just couldn't be possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the emotional rollercoaster goes on.   
> This time, Steve also gets his fair share.

At least Jefferson seemed to calm down at his words. His body sagged as the tension left him and his head sank down to his chest. His hands never released their strong grip on Steve’s shirt, but they started trembling. The same time as his fast and ragged breaths started hitching.

“I just want him back.”

* * *

 

Steve’s jaw clenched, unprepared for the effect of that simple statement. The raw emotion scratched at his own wounds, making them bleed anew. And in this moment he felt a strange connection to this tortured soul in front of him.

He did the only thing he could.

The thing he’d fought against for quite some time now.

He pulled Jefferson against his chest, closing his arms around this stranger who felt terribly familiar. One of his hands slid up the other man’s back until it rested against his neck.

And for a moment he let himself pretend that it was Bucky. That he finally held his friend again just like in old times when they’d shared a relieved hug after a close call during a mission.

Until he felt the wetness seep into the fabric at his shoulder.

This man wasn’t Bucky.

But he was hurt by the loss of one, just like he was. Maybe even more. It scared him to watch what this kind of loss could do to a person. Loss and guilt, the perfect combination to destroy one’s sanity.

For a moment Steve wondered if he was looking at his own future. But he discarded that thought again. He had friends, he had a purpose. And he’d always been a survivor.

Nevertheless, his wish to get his friend back grew even stronger in that moment.

Steve stayed silent. Mumbling meaningless stuff to comfort the other man just didn’t feel right in this situation.

Slowly Jefferson’s shaking subsided, leaving him leaning limp against him.

When Steve was sure that he’d calmed down he gently pushed him away, holding his arms again, but he didn’t let go of him. His eyes roamed the other’s face, carefully scrutinizing his current state – quite the mess actually, pale and eyes red. He looked utterly spent and exhausted but stable enough.

“You okay?” It was a stupid question but it was the only thing that came to his mind.

Jefferson shook his head in a weak motion before he leaned his head down until his brow connected softly with Steve’s.

A jolt of _something_ shot through his whole body at this gesture of comfort.

Of familiarity.

_His thin arm curled around the other kid’s shoulder, pulling him close with a smile. Bucky’s eyes were still fixed at a point in the distance, but he leaned his head to the side until it softly bumped against his own. They sat like that for quite a while._

His muscles tensed involuntarily. A soft gasp filled the room. It took him a moment to realize it had come from him. The warm feeling of his memory clashing with the awkwardness of the moment at this familiar gesture.

Jefferson tensed under his hands and pulled back with haste. “Sorry, I didn’t… I shouldn’t have done that… I… Sorry,” he stammered, embarrassed.

Steve blinked. The spot where their skins had touched still tingling. “Um- it’s alright.”

“It’s just… we always did that, when one of us was upset. And I- I wasn’t thinking…”

Steve let the other man go. He needed the distance, his words conjuring memories of Bucky doing just the same, seeking comfort like this whenever he was upset.

_God, what jumbled mess is this here?_

Jefferson pulled back, wiping his hands across his face as if to wake himself, drying the tear tracks along the way. He pulled up one of his legs, hugging his knee. He leaned his head against it, exhaling slowly with unfocused eyes. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a fond smile but also a sad one.

“He wasn’t afraid of anything, you know? Thunderstorms excited him. Wolfs and bears and snakes, those fascinated him. The darkness was his accomplice in doing mischief. Nothing really scared him, apart from our parents’ arguments.”

Steve was glad to see that Jefferson had gotten his composure back. Tilting his head a bit, he listened intently, until the last part made him pant softly. Only then did he realize that he’d been holding his breath the whole time.

Jefferson’s eyes cleared a bit, looking at him out of the corner of his eye before he went on.

“Our father had quite a temper and our mother was a spirited woman. They loved each other, no question, but they argued a lot. And loud. It scared both of us, but something about it bothered Bucky more than me. Whenever they started screaming at each other he’d slip out of the house and into the forest. I always found him at his favorite tree, up on the first thick branch that was hidden behind the foliage. He liked to come to high places when he was upset, to distance himself from anything that hurt him. I sat there with him so many times, feet dangling in the air and our heads always leaning against each other. And we vowed to never be like that.”  

Somewhere along the tale Steve had sat back in stunned silence as his muscles refused to work properly anymore. He’d slumped against the side of the couch, his heart beating in a strangely irregular rhythm. And he listened with one ear while his mind conjured up images from so very long ago.

_Even though the worst of his cold was over his mother still wanted him to rest. Lying around on his bed with nothing else to do but watch the curtains blow in the soft breeze from outside was so boring._

_That’s when he heard it. A metallic clanging. It came from the fire escape outside his window._

_Curios he peeked out to find a familiar form sitting at the end of it, back towards him. It was Bucky, without doubt. He sat on the metal grating, his legs between the struts of the banister, feet dangling freely in the air._

_“Bucky!” he called, excited to see his friend after his long forced stay in his bedroom._

_But the other kid didn’t react to him at all._

_Confused he glanced back at his door, hoping that his mother wouldn’t look for him just now and then climbed out the window onto the metal construction. He sat down next to his friend, dangling his feet as well._

_Bucky didn’t acknowledge his presence, only mumbling something that sounded like ‘never be like that’._

_He nudged Bucky jovially with his shoulder, hoping for a laugh, a teasing smile. Even an annoyed grunt would have been better than unresponsive muttering._

_He got none of it. But his friend looked up at him, biting his bottom lip hard. He looked distraught and afraid._

_Steve had never seen him afraid before. Not once._

_Bucky looked away again._

_Steve had no idea what had happened, he only knew that his friend was hurting. Without hesitation he curled his thin arm around his friend, pulling him close with a comforting smile. Bucky’s eyes were still fixed at a point in the distance, but he leaned his head to the side until it softly bumped against Steve’s. They sat like that for quite a while._

Overwhelmed by the implications of his memory he covered his mouth. That time on the fire escape had been the first of some similar incidences. Steve had learned later on that they all collided with times when his adopted parents had had a fight.

This wasn’t possible! Right?

He stared at Jefferson, not knowing what to think anymore.

The other man was looking at him, eyes narrowed. Slowly he lifted his head from his knee, turning to get a better look.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

He was stating a fact, unable to keep the quiver of new hope out of his voice.

Steve shook his head weakly. “It can’t be.”

Jefferson snorted. „I told you it can.“

“Sure,” Steve huffed with an air of condescension. He got up, the urge to move too great to sit on the floor anymore. This time it was he who was pacing the room. “Yeah, your brother simply fell through a time portal that transported him from _fairytale_ land to this world where he lived his live as my friend while you tried to find him. But you were cursed by the _Evil Queen_ and had to fight the _Wicked Witch_. Sure, sounds like a valuable explanation!”

He sounded a lot harsher than he’d intended. But all of _this_ was getting to him.

His pent up frustration over his fruitless search for Bucky. His exasperation at this ludicrous story. And his apprehension over the similarities of their memories. It was just _too_ _much_.

He stopped in front of the fireplace, leaning his hand against the mantlepiece to take a deep breath.

“I know how it sounds.”

“Really? Do you?” Steve snorted.

He heard Jefferson sigh behind him, followed by a quiet mumble. “You don’t know the half of it.”

He pushed himself away from the fireplace and stepped towards the table. With a quick motion he picked up the tumbler the other man had left there and gulped the rest of liquid down. The warm burn in his throat a welcome feeling.

“Then _don’t_ tell me about the other half!”

Jefferson just sat there, totally calm, his blue eyes trained on him from under his lashes. His hands were around his knee, loosely holding onto the wrists of the respectively other hand.

Steve noticed that his thumb was constantly rubbing along a spot on his left wrist, hidden under the cuff of his green shirt.

“You don’t have to believe me, but you can’t deny that there are certain similarities between your Bucky and mine. Things too tangible to just dismiss.”

Steve hated to admit it, especially since it came from someone clearly mentally unstable.

 _Or maybe just hurt_.

But Jefferson was right.

He couldn’t just dismiss all of it.

The part where Bucky’s being frightened at his parent’s fighting. The way he always sought comfort by leaning his head against his. The fact that he was adopted.

 _And that stupid hat_.

Why were his thoughts always tumbling back to that hat? As if the hat were a pin that held the tangled web of this mess in a fixed state, preventing him from sorting it out. And his mind was getting back to it over and over again in hopes of finding a way to remove the ‘hat’ pin and untangle the rest.

But how? What was the hat trying to tell him?

“Oh God,” he grunted, drawing the second word out until his breath ran out. Shaking his head in resignation and disbelief he got around the table and slumped ungracefully down on the couch again. He rubbed his eyes, tired of the emotional rollercoaster of the last hours.

That’s when he noticed Jefferson’s smirk, new life glinting in his eyes in the dim light of dusk.

“What?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“You’re still here.”

Steve groaned. He obviously was, much to his own annoyance.

Jefferson unfolded himself to get up. He stretched his back a bit before he collected the tumbler again.

“Do you want one now?”

Steve only nodded and watched the other man as he opened the cabinet again and poured two tumblers this time. He followed every move intently to focus his struggling brain on something other than the big jumble of memories and random thoughts, all concerning Bucky. Or the crazy and impossible magical story Jefferson had told.

Soon one of the glasses was pressed into his hand and he immediately took a big gulp. He didn’t like the taste but the burn turned out to be an additional help in distracting his mind for a while.

Jefferson did the same, but then he placed his glass on the table again. He knelt down in front of the fire place, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his elbows. Surprised Steve saw that he piled a few logs from a casket hidden in a cupboard in the fireplace.

“A fire?” disbelief colored his voice.

_It’s way too warm for that._

The other man worked on and lighted the kindler that he’d placed under the logs and in between some splints and bundles of paper. His eyes were fixed on the flames, licking their way up the logs, a soft cracking filling the room.

“I find it soothing to watch.”

For a while they both just stared into the flames. Jefferson stood up at some point to get his scotch but he didn’t sit down again, instead opting for standing in front of the fire until he was convinced that the logs had indeed ignited and burned nicely. The warm glow of the fire also made up for the fading sunlight, casting the dimming room in flickering shadows.

Jefferson had been right again. Watching the flames _was_ soothing. It made it strangely easy to _not_ think at all.

But that wasn’t helping either of them.

When he looked up again he found Jefferson leaning against the piano, twirling the tumbler absentmindedly in his hands. His eyes were drawn to the flickering play of yellow and orange.

The man seemed so lost in thought that he had no idea what to say or even if he should.

It was Jefferson in the end who broke the silence, confusing Steve with his words.

“Was there anything left of him?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t understand.”

Inhaling audibly Jefferson pried his gaze away from the flames and focused Steve instead with apprehension.

“You said you’ve met him recently. Is there anything left of him – the real him – after everything they’ve done to him?”

The question took him off-guard. And it brought back different memories, at the same time painful and hopeful.

_Who the hell is Bucky?_

_You know me. – No, I don’t._

_You’re my friend. – You’re my mission. – Then finish it._

But it hadn’t been Bucky’s words that had held the real meaning. It had been his eyes.

Steve found himself nodding slowly.

“He was fighting me, but I think in the end he remembered something. I saw it in his eyes. He had the chance to finish me but he stopped himself although it was his mission to kill me. And he had the chance to let me die when I fell into the Potomac, badly wounded. But he fished me out of the water and saved my life. So yes, I think he’s still in there.”

Jefferson looked back at the fire again, processing what he’d said. His eyes were distant and his scotch forgotten in his hand.

That’s when Steve spotted it, the polished surface gleaming up in a flicker of the fire.

“Oh God,” he breathed, the glass slipping from his suddenly numb fingers, connecting with the carpet with a dull thump.

Jefferson turned, irritation flickering over his face at seeing the scotch seeping into the white fabric. “Hey, can’t you…”

But Steve wasn’t paying attention anymore. The only thing that held any importance right now was the leather band around Jefferson’s left wrist. Or more precisely: the small blue stone that was fixed to the leather.

A flat stone, mostly round with a small hole in the middle. The same color as Jefferson’s eyes.

As Bucky’s eyes.

It was the same. It was exactly the same.

But it wasn’t possible.

It wasn’t.

And yet it was.

A hand touched his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Blinking he turned his head towards the shoulder, dazed, staring at an arm. Jefferson. It must be Jefferson. When had he crossed the room?

His heart hammered against his ribs, making breathing into a laborious act.

“Hey there, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A ghost? Oh yes, definitely a ghost.

With all the swiftness his enhanced body was capable of his hand shot out and grabbed Jefferson’s left arm. A shocked outcry filled the room.

Steve didn’t listen, he just held the arm up for him to inspect. The stone was smooth from polishing and probably years of wearing, the black leather old and worn.

But the stone.

It was the same.

The same blue. The same tiny inclusions of a lighter, icy blue color and small black spots.

Suddenly the arm in his hand jerked and he realized that the other man was falling to his knees on the carpet. His other hand was splayed on the ground but he seemed unsteady nonetheless. Jefferson’s voice shook when he spoke.

“You’ve seen this before.”

Steve loosened his grip and let his hand glide down to the wrist. He traced the circle of stone with his thumb, biting his lip.

“Yes, I have.”         

But it was more than that.

He remembered the hat.

 

 

(TBC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the nasty cliffhanger, but this moment was just perfect for a cut.
> 
> Hope you liked it :)


	6. The elephant in the room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is revealed and Steve tries to come to terms with it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, here's another one.  
> This chapter's a bit shorter and it focuses solely on Steve. Jefferson will come back next time, don't worry.  
> Enjoy!

“You’ve seen this before.”

Steve loosened his grip and let his hand glide down to the wrist. He traced the circle of stone with his thumb, biting his lip.

“Yes, I have.”         

But it was more than that.

He remembered the hat.

* * *

 

_Steve woke up to darkness. Well, as dark as it gets in the middle of the night shortly before full moon._

_He just couldn’t figure out why._

_A soft groan sounded next to him. Followed by mumbling._

_Suddenly a jerky movement made the mattress sway and his blanket was half-way gone._

_With a frown he turned around to his friend._

_Bucky’s mother was in the hospital and his father had to work the nightshift so he stayed the night. They had been more than excited about it, but now something was wrong._

_Bucky seemed to have a nightmare._

_Steve pulled the blanket out of the way, finding his friend curled in on himself with his face to the wall._

_“’m sorry- the hat, we shouldn’t have- no- Jeff…”_

_“Bucky!” Steve whispered, shaking the other boy’s shoulder. „Wake up!“_

_Another shake later Bucky startled awake, gasping loudly. His eyes were wide and Steve could see the tears glistening in the cold light from the window. As soon as he realized where he was his right hand shot up to his neck to grip the stone pendant around it tightly._

_“Hey, it’s alright Bucky, just a dream.”_

_But Bucky shook his head, pushing himself up so he could sit on the bed with his back against the wall. He pulled his legs up and hugged them closely to his chest, never letting his pendant go._

_“No Steve,” he said, his voice coarse and unusually subdued. “It was my fault.”_

_Curious – and he also didn’t like to see his friend so sad and frightened – Steve crawled closer and sat next to Bucky, close enough that their shoulders and legs were touching. With a soft tug he pulled the blanket back over their knees, for comfort – and he was cold without._

_“What happened?”_

_Bucky shivered. „I was back with my family.“_

_Steve knew immediately that he was talking about his real family. Bucky had confided in him once that the Barnes weren’t his real parents and that he had a brother. He’d said that his real family would come for him eventually. Apart from that one time he’d never spoken of it again till now._

_“Mmh,” Steve mumbled to encourage him to keep going._

_“Jeff and I were playing with our father’s hat. It’s a magical hat, you know? It makes portals that can bring you anywhere. The hat suddenly started spinning and there was this portal in our house. I was so scared. I wanted to grab something but the portal sucked me in. Only me. And I landed here, in this world.”_

_“It was just a dream, Bucky.” Steve knew how terrifying nightmares could be, he had his fair share of them. He knew just going back to sleep wasn’t an option. He preferred to sneak over to his mother’s room and crawl into her bed, but he didn’t think that Bucky would want that._

_So it was up to him. He would stay here and keep him company until he felt better._

_Bucky looked up and glanced sideways at him. “It wasn’t a dream, Steve. It really happened.”_

_Steve frowned._

_“Do you think I’m mad?”_

_„What? No!“ He leaned closer until his head bumped against Bucky’s, knowing that his friend liked to do that when he was upset._

_“Everyone else does. They don’t like it when I talk about it.”_

_Steve couldn’t fathom why that would be the case. Bucky’s story was so much more interesting than his own family._

_Thinking about it, he had to grin. He gave his friend a tiny nudge. “So, your father has a magic hat? That’s so cool!”_

_At first it was just a tug at the corner of his lips but after a few seconds a bright smile split Bucky’s face. “It is!”_

_They sat for a while in companiable silence. Steve loved every minute of it. He’d never had a real friend before, but Bucky was one. The best thing that had ever happened to him._

_At some point Bucky opened the hand at his neck, revealing the round and flat stone, wound into a black leather band. He’d worn it ever since he knew him._

_“What’s that?” It had never seemed important up until now and Steve wanted to know. To understand._

_Bucky looked down although the string wasn’t long enough for him to actually see it. He lifted his hand again and traced the stone with his fingers._

_“It’s the same as my brother’s. Mother made it for us.”_

_Steve nodded. “I’ve never seen a stone like that. It’s beautiful.”_

_Again silence fell and Steve got drowsy. It was in the middle of the night after all. He was just about to suggest getting back to sleep when Bucky’s low voice kept him back._

_“They’ll come for me, Stevie. You’ll see. They just have problems finding me.“_

 

They hadn’t talked much about his real family, being busy with school and keeping out of trouble – or getting into it. With helping their parents and playing outside – or inside. And with Steve’s many episodes of illness. Nonetheless, even that few times had stretched farther and farther as time went by and no one came to get Bucky back.

He only ever really thought back on it once. Sometime around his 15th birthday. The day Bucky stopped wearing the stone necklace.

Remembering his friend’s story and his behavior and given the fact that he hadn’t been a part of his new family for very long when he’d told it to him Steve thought that this fantasy Bucky had made up had been a kind of coping mechanism. Something that was easier for him to face than the true loss or abandonment he’d experienced.

He’d thought it a step in the right direction as Bucky had gotten rid of the pendant.

He’d thought his friend had finally come to terms with his past. Letting it go in favor of his present and future.

Remembering it now Steve’s throat closed painfully, the meaning of it all almost choking him.

_How could I forget about all that?_

They’d been so busy with their lives. Bucky had pushed it away because it hurt too much and Steve had forgotten about it, because his friend had seemed okay, so it hadn’t been important anymore.

Although right now nothing made sense at all to Steve, other things suddenly did in this new light.

Like the fact that Bucky had gaped at totally normal things at first, like a bicycle.

Like the fact that Bucky hadn’t known any of the games kids their age used to play.

Or that he’d had no idea what Christmas was.

Unable to comprehend the scale of it – only that it was _huge_ – Steve gaped, seeing nothing in particular. Gradually, as if the world had been turned down to slow motion, he turned his head towards Jefferson.

The similarity struck him again, just like in the beginning on the street of this town.

And just like in the diner his eyes roamed over the familiar face, comparing similarities – the dimple on his chin, the way his emotions were always clearly visible in his eyes – and detecting small differences – the lines on his brow and the way his hair was a slightly lighter colour.

Only this time he was actively _looking_ for it.

And he stared at the other man as if he was seeing him for the first time.

“Bucky really _is_ your brother, isn’t he?”

 

 

Sun filtered through the window, softly broken by the shadows of some branches outside.

With a heavy sigh Steve slumped deeper into the mattress. After years of military routine he always woke at dawn, his body ready to face the day ahead. Even way too few hours of fitful sleep couldn’t turn off his biological clock. But that didn’t mean that his mind was up to the task as well.

Drowsy he rubbed his face to knead some life back into himself.

It had been a looong night.

His friend and Jefferson’s brother really _were_ one and the same person.

It had taken him a while – and some more glasses of scotch – to accept that fact.

But a fact it was. The evidence was clear.

They had spent hours talking about Bucky and each other. Jefferson had told him stories about his and Bucky’s real parents, about their childhood and the mischief they’d made. But he’d also shared his pain and guilt over losing his brother, the devastation it had brought upon their family.

And Steve had told him of his childhood with Bucky. Of his cheeky nature and his easy smiles, but also of his nightmares and his hope for his real family to come get him. He told him of the good man he’d become, brave and loyal and his heart at the right place. And quite the flirt with the ladies – at which Jefferson had laughed.

It had gone completely dark outside without them even noticing.

There in the darkness with nothing but the flickering glow of the fire he’d felt connected to this other man. Through shared pain. Shared loss. And the shared love for a man called Bucky.

They had talked and reminisced, but one thing they’d never addressed.

It had been there like the proverbial elephant in the room, but Steve hadn’t been willing to get into it. And Jefferson hadn’t after he’d sensed his discomfort whenever anything he’d said had been too far off into that direction.

In the end the other man had offered him – practically forced was the better word – to sleep in one of the guest rooms with it being well after midnight.

But there, lying in an unfamiliar bed in the darkness, the elephant had crept up on him.

Bucky was Jefferson’s brother.

There’d been no doubts left in him at that point.

But for that to be possible all the rest of Jefferson’s story had to be true as well.

Magic.

That damn _hat_!

Time Travel.

Fairytale characters that really existed in a different parallel world.

A cursed town in the middle of Maine.

He’d tried for hours to wrap his head around it.

It sounded absolutely ridiculous.

Somewhere along the way he must have fallen asleep at last.

With a groan he pushed himself up and out of the bed. Blinking blearily – his lids felt rough and dry like sandpaper on his eyes – he grabbed for his discarded clothes and padded barefoot and only in his shorts into the bathroom across the hall. Jefferson had laid out a towel, body wash, deodorant and a toothbrush with toothpaste for him on the toilet lid.

A soft smile played across his lips at this considerate action.

After brushing his teeth – that had been much needed, really – he stepped into the shower, letting the warm water pelt down hard on his skin. Nonetheless it couldn’t hold back the thoughts from last night. Ever since his mind had woken up again it had decided to pick up where it had lost the thread the night before.

But other than the darkness of the night the new light of this day brought him a certain kind of clarity.

Something he’d been too shaken and overwhelmed to see before.

He just had to deal with it the same way he’d dealt with most of the stuff he’d been faced with since he’d woken up.

The same way he’d dealt with an alien who claimed to be Thor. Or the invasion of an alien army.

The same way he’d dealt with a man turning into a green monster.

Or the fact that Howard’s son had turned out to be an arrogant, self obsessed jerk.

Or generally the whole technological evolution since his time.

He would be open-minded, gather information, evaluate it and just accept it without analyzing it to death. Too much thinking wasn’t helping in that regard, that much he’d learned.

The only difficulty with that plan was that he found it easier to accept aliens and technological advance because all of that were things he’d never seen or heard before.

Fairytales had been a part of his childhood. They still were all around in books and movies.  

And it was easier for him to accept and believe in something new than revising the knowledge about something he’d thought he’d already figured out to be just fiction.

But he could do this.

He _would_ do this.

Bucky was his brother. Always had been. If not in blood than in everything else.

That’s why he had to _do_ this.

Jefferson and Grace, they were family after all.

 

(TBC)


	7. Fairytale-land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's morning and Steve is finally ready to face the truth about fairytales.

Spurred by his new determination he quickly finished his shower and dressed. His clothes looked a bit rumpled but they would do until he got back to his bike and his stuff. If his stuff was still there.

When he exited the bathroom he could hear soft noises, indicating that he wasn’t the only one awake. He headed for the kitchen, soon realizing that the noises originated from there.

He stepped into the doorway, gazing inside. Early morning light was shining through the big windows, reflecting from the chrome and glass surfaces, tainting the room in a strangely surreal aura.

Jefferson stood at the counter in front of a coffee machine, obviously waiting for it to finish. Although it was early in the morning and his hair was still damp everything else about him looked just as meticulous as the day before. Dark blue jeans, a light brown paisley shirt and a dark brown vest with a matching cravat. He certainly liked his exceptional style.

Steve knocked against the doorframe. He didn’t want to startle the other man first thing in the morning.

“Good morning.”

Jefferson blinked a bit dazed, as if he’d been dozing and made an indistinct waving motion with his hand. “You too.”

The machine in front of him beeped quietly and a small light started blinking green.

“Finally!”

Jefferson pressed a button and after some rumbling hot brown liquid ran into a big mug he’d placed there earlier.

“Slept well?”

Steve rubbed a hand along his neck. “Not really.”

The other man took his mug out of the machine and turned towards him, holding it up a bit. “Want one?”

“Jeez! You look like hell!“ And he did. He was pale and there were dark circles beneath his heavy lidded eyes. “Did you sleep at all?”

Jefferson shook his head before he leaned back against the counter and took a tentative sip, the coffee clearly too hot to drink yet. “Too much hubbub in my head.”

“Know the feeling. And yes, I’d like one,” he said, nodding towards the mug.

Few minutes later they were both standing there, sipping their coffees in silence.

Until Jefferson took a look at the clock and straightened in response. “Grace will be up soon.”

He placed his cup aside and opened the refrigerator, pulling out eggs and bacon and some toast. “This okay for you?” he asked with a questioning glance towards Steve. “I don’t know what super-soldiers eat for breakfast.”

“This is perfectly fine,” Steve said with a lopsided smile. “Is there anything I can do?”

Jefferson regarded him for a moment, a grin suddenly brightening his tired face. “If you want to put a smile on Grace’s face you could press some of these oranges over there. She loves fresh orange juice.”

After Jefferson had placed a lemon squeezer and a knife into his hands they’d started working side by side.

“So… fairytale-land, huh?” That was the stupidest conversation opening _ever_.

He felt more than that he actually saw how Jefferson next to him stiffened at his words. His voice sounded unsure and cautious as if he was testing the waters.

“Actually, it’s called the Enchanted Forest.”

“Oh,” said Steve. This was awkward. He was a soldier, he felt pretty much out of his depth here. But he was determined to get at least a basic understanding of this… _this_.

“So,” he started again, trying for a casual tone, “does that mean that every storybook character I’ve ever read about is actually _real_?”

Jefferson stopped whisking raw eggs in a bowl to rub the back of his neck, blowing his cheeks. “Um- I can’t tell for _every character_ that would be going out on a limb, but that’s pretty much the basic idea. Yeah.”

“Pinocchio?” Steve couldn’t help it, he had to ask. He’d always loved the story as a kid, so naturally it had been the first to pop into his mind.

The other man turned towards him, a grin on his face. “Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Met him once when Geppetto fixed the floorboards of my porch. He’s a good boy.”

For a moment Steve could only blink, most likely with a pretty dumb expression on his face. “He’s in _this_ town? Isn’t he- isn’t he supposed to be made of wood?”

“Maybe once, but I assure you, he’s a real boy. All flesh and blood.”

Steve turned back to his oranges and pushed one in smooth movements against the presser, watching the sweet juice dripping down into a collecting container underneath. “This will _certainly_ take some getting used to!”

Jefferson merely shrugged and placed the bacon into the hot frying pan. “Maybe not. It’s easier anyway if you just forget all the stuff you think you know.”

Steve looked up with an eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer.

“ _This_ world here has the tendency to get the history of _my_ world all wrong. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but mostly the stuff you’ve read as a child isn’t accurate at all.”

He wasn’t sure if that new information was a good thing or a bad thing, so he focused on the oranges again until all of them were done. Nonetheless the fairytales wouldn’t leave him alone. All the things Jefferson had said during their acquaintance were flitting through his mind again, teasing him with their impossibility and giving rise to more questions than he could ask – or handle their answers.

Steve knew he needed to take it slow. This _thing_ felt already strange enough – and a bit mad.

But there was one thing that seemed to be more important than the rest.

“This town here. You said it’s cursed? Looks pretty normal to me, and not very fairytale-like if you ask me.”

Jefferson pursed his lips, pondering what to say while flipping the bacon. “Okay, short version. The Evil Queen was angry and jealous so she cast this curse that sent a big part of the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest – and a few selected others – into this world so she could take our happy endings away.”

Steve frowned. “Happy endings, um, I don’t understand. How is living here taking your happy endings away?”

The other man chuckled, a sarcastic edge to it. He picked the now crispy bacon out of the pan and filled the whisked eggs into it instead. “Do you mind setting the table? Plates are in that cupboard there and the silverware is in the top drawer there.”

“Sure.”

While Steve was placing everything on the big table Jefferson continued making scrambled eggs.

“She took our memories away and gave us new ones, fitting for this world. But she made sure that each and every one here was separated from the things or people they loved most. Always feeling something missing, but never knowing what or why. Until the curse was broken, that is.”

Steve paused in the middle of laying out the silverware, stunned by what the other’s words implied. “That’s horrible!”

Jefferson tried to shrug it off, but it was clear that his true feelings about this were anything but indifference. “That’s also why this town looks normal at first sight.”

Steve nodded slowly as he processed the information. “Your memories came back but the false ones were still there. Everyone remembers living a life here…”

_God, if Natasha would hear me now she’d knock me out and drop me at the nearest psych ward!_

Footsteps suddenly sounded through the house as Grace came running down the stairs judging by her speed.

A thought popped up in Steve’s mind, an important one.

“Jefferson?” he asked, quietly and laced with a certain urgency. “Does she know about Bucky?”

The other man stopped in the middle of placing toast into the toaster, fixing Steve for a moment before he looked down. “No. I never told her.”

Only moments later the young girl bounced into the room – way too cheerful and _awake_ for his liking right now. She abruptly stopped, surprise all over her face.

“Oh! You’re still here.”

He shrugged. “Your father offered me a room after we’ve forgotten the time yesterday.”

Stepping around the counter with two plates in his hands Jefferson indicated for her to sit down.

The food was simple but filling and tasty. He thought about what he’d learned so far, mulling it over in his head. It was hard to ignore the absurdity of it all, but absurd was what his life had become ever since he woke up again – even before that if he was honest.

“Just ask!”

“Huh?”

Jefferson rolled his eyes dramatically which made Grace snicker. “That poor piece of egg has seen every tiny part of your plate now at least twice. Grant it some peace.”

Indeed, he’d been pushing his food around for a while now without him really realizing it. With an uncertain glance towards the girl he cleared his throat under the expectant eyes of the other man.

“Who are the people I met yesterday? I mean, who are they _really_?”

The thought had nagged at him for a while now. The knowing smile on Jefferson’s face told him that the other had been waiting for this question.

“Remember the waitress at Granny’s?” Steve nodded. Pretty girl, clothes a bit _too much_ – or too less – for his liking. She’d been eyeing him with suspicion he remembered.

Jefferson raised an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth tugged into a lopsided grin. “She’s Red Riding Hood.”

Hearing it felt strange, but what actually stunned and convinced him was the loud gasp of Grace.

The girl looked back and forth between them, wide-eyed. “He _knows_?”

Jefferson nodded nonchalantly. “I told him.”

Grace’s eyes grew even bigger if that was possible. “You _told_ …” She alternated between staring incredulously at her father and eying him warily as if he’d attack at any minute.

“But Papa- that’s _dangerous_!”

Steve had no idea what frightened her about his newfound knowledge. In his opinion he had more reason to be frightened and overwhelmed by it all than the girl.

Jefferson frowned, letting the piece of bacon in his hand sink back onto his plate, untouched. “Dangerous?”

Grace rolled her eyes, clearly stating that she thought that it should be obvious – whatever ‘it’ was. “Well, the last outsiders who came here and _knew_ almost killed August and kidnapped Henry.”

That made Steve prick up his ears. He had no idea who these people were but ‘almost killed’ and ‘kidnapped’, those words spoke for themselves.

A shadow played across Jefferson’s face but he quickly covered it up, smiling confidently at his daughter. “You don’t need to worry about that. Steve isn’t like that. I trust him and you can, too.”

Wow, that surprised him. They knew each other for not even a whole day. Being his long lost brother’s best friend might have something to do with that. Well, be that as it may, he wasn’t planning on betraying this unexpected trust.

Grace was more suspicious than her father. “This woman last time had been Henry’s father’s _girlfriend_. So how can you be so sure of _him_?” She nodded in Steve’s direction.

Jefferson looked hard-pressed for something to say. He hadn’t told his daughter about his brother and this certainly wasn’t the ideal setting for dropping something like that. The other man wetted his lips, his eyes darting to Steve.

He thought he heard the other man mumbling something like ‘please, let Henry have told her about New York, too’, before he said with a hopeful expression: “Because he’s Captain America.”

Steve hadn’t expected _that_.

Grace obviously neither.

Her mouth dropped open and she just stared at Steve, gaping. It was clear that _she_ had heard of him.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“Grace! Language!”

 

(TBC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a friend over this weekend so it's possible that I won't be able to upload the next chapter before Monday.   
> Just so you know.  
> Hope you had fun with this one!


	8. What now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is wondering what he should do now that he found a link to Bucky. How to proceed from there on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, I had a friend visiting for the weekend, but now I'm back for the last two chapters.  
> The last one will follow on Friday most likely.  
> Enjoy!

“You can tell him, Papa.”

“What-“ Jefferson stuttered, an almost pained tone superseding his surprise. “How do you know?”

“I read it in Henry’s book. It’s- it’s okay, Papa.”

Steve wished he hadn’t asked, the mood in the car had turned south fast ever since. Stifling, tense and full of unsaid words.

Who are you in those stories?

It had been such a harmless question. Except that it obviously wasn’t.

After Jefferson’s reveal at the breakfast table Grace had been way more open towards him. At least after she’d recovered from the shock. They had talked openly then and she’d been eager to answer all of his former questions and fill him in on the true identity of the people he’d seen at the docks the day before.

_“That was Henry. He’s in my class. And my friend. And he’s the Truest Believer. Henry’s not sure what good that does, but he’s still hoping for some kind of superpower. The woman with him, that’s his mother. She’s also the sheriff of Storybrooke. She grew up in this world but she’s the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming,” Grace babbled on and on, overwhelming Steve with information that his brain desperately tried to sort through._

_But it was nice, seeing the girl open up ever since she’d explained to her father that Steve was one of this world’s heroes._

_Wait, had she said Snow White and Prince Charming?_

_“And the man with them is Killian Jones. He’s actually Captain Hook, although he hasn’t got his ship anymore. Henry told me, his mother and Hook are dating since their trip to the Enchanted Forest. He’s rather nice – and funny – although he’s supposed to be a villain.”_

_Steve wasn’t really following anymore. “So that really was a hook,” he mumbled, thinking back at the gleaming metal where the man’s hand should have been._

_He caught Jefferson’s amused grin out of the corner of his eye._

_Steve wondered who Bucky and his brother had been in the Enchanted Forest._

_“Holy crap!” The whisper escaped him, the thought to blame just too much to process._

_Bucky – his best friend through childhood and war, the man he’d always been able to count on – was a fairytale character!_

He’d been too stunned by it all.

The realization about Bucky, about Snow White’s daughter dating Captain Hook… it really made his head hurt.

Checking the time Jefferson had made them both hurry up and get outside and into the car to drive Grace to school – skipping the school bus for once – and getting Steve back into town.

That’s when he’d made the mistake.

When he’d finally recovered enough to indulge his curiosity.

At least partly since he couldn’t speak of Bucky in front of the girl.

So he’d asked Jefferson the question. The seemingly natural question at that point. “Who are you in those stories?”

He really regretted it now. But he couldn’t have known. He still had no idea what he’d done exactly.

He only knew that Jefferson was tense next to him and his fingers were gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were almost white. He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension and made an obvious effort in relaxing his hands, but the pained expression stayed on his face.

Steve was just about to tell him that it wasn’t important, when the man answered in a flat voice.

“I’m known as the Mad Hatter.”

It meant nothing to Steve. He couldn’t recall a fairytale with a Mad Hatter in it.

Nevertheless, Jefferson hated that name. If it had been written on his face it couldn’t have been more obvious. And even though this revelation brought new questions Steve kept quiet. There was no need to dig up old pains, they’d done enough of that last night.

Last night…

He remembered Jefferson’s reaction when he’d called him mad.

_Oh, there’s definitely a story there, Steve!_

It was Grace who broke the silence. She spoke quietly, but with a seriousness and conviction that didn’t match her age.

“You’re not that man anymore!”

Images of Bucky and the Winter Soldier flashed before his eyes.

He really wished that he’d be able to say those exact words to Bucky someday – preferably in the near future.

It also made him wonder. It sounded as if Jefferson had at some point become this other person, this Mad Hatter, that he didn’t want to be reminded of. A person that he wasn’t anymore according to Grace.

Could it be possible that even after their years of separation some strange kind of connection made both brothers experience similar situations in their life?

The car came to a stop. Only now Steve noticed the obvious school building to their left. Children were filling the yard, running and laughing and talking and some were teasing others.

“Bye, Steve. It was nice to meet you. See you in the afternoon, Papa!”

Grace grabbed her backpack next to her and exited the car. A moment later Jefferson suddenly yanked his door open and jumped out.

“Grace, wait!”

Surprised the girl turned back.

“What is…” She didn’t finish when her father closed his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her hair.

“Papa…” She wasn’t exactly whining but Steve grimaced at her tone. Although he was glad that at least some things always stayed the same – even after 70 years of enforced sleep: teenagers still didn’t like public displays of affection from their parents. Especially not if their friends could see it.

“Have a nice day, honey!”

Grace squirmed her way out of his embrace, smiled and waved and ran off towards the other kids.

Jefferson sat back into the car with a heavy sigh, seemingly miles away. He ran his hand through his hair, breathing out audibly before he started the car again.

“Where’s your car?”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t come here by car.” He saw Jefferson’s eyes narrow and interjected quickly. “I parked my motorcycle near the diner.”

The other man seemed surprised, but shrugged it off and drove on, as if he worked on autopilot. Something was bothering Jefferson, maybe it was the Mad Hatter thing from earlier, maybe it was something else.

At the moment Steve didn’t really care, actually he was glad about the silence. He had stuff to sort through himself. Ever since their talk before breakfast he was pondering what to _do_ with this new situation.

Up until now it had been quite simple: find Bucky and get him to remember.

Okay, maybe not so simple at all.

Finding Bucky had proved a challenge so far. His training with Hydra had made him quite efficient when it came to avoiding detection. There’d been only three chance sightings so far, twice because of his metal arm and once because of a new security system.

And that was the easiest part of it all. Steve had no idea how he could get his friend’s memories back. But he had to believe that it was possible! That there was a chance that Bucky could be saved, that he was still in there.

But even if it was possible, what then?

Hydra was out there and Captain America was needed.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was scattered and broken, they had their hands full with sorting through the chaos and rebuilding their network.

How did Bucky fit in there?

The authorities would arrest him, putting him in a prison cell for what he’d done, most likely not caring that he’d been _used_ the whole time.

He wasn’t even sure if S.H.I.E.L.D. would take it into account.

The Avengers? Would his friends give Bucky a chance?

Or should he take him here?

He had family here, a brother.

But – if he liked it or not – Bucky was dangerous. He had to be absolutely sure that he wouldn’t be a threat to anyone if he brought him here. The risk with all the untrained civilians around was too much, otherwise.

Would these people welcome a known assassin into their midst? And help him get his life back?

He was thinking too far ahead again.

Maybe he could get Jefferson as soon as he found Bucky. His presence could help him remember. Or it could make everything worse. And, thinking about his last try to reason with the Winter Soldier, it was way too dangerous for the single father. Even with his advanced body Steve had needed days to get back on his feet. Jefferson wouldn’t stand a chance.

So back to plan A again. Finding Bucky, making him remember and then arrange for him to meet his brother.

With a tired sigh he rubbed the bridge of his nose. This new knowledge made everything even more complicated.

“That one?”

The question tore him out of his ponderings. Looking around, a bit disoriented, he noticed that Jefferson had parked along the street near the diner where all of this had started, pointing at his bike.

“Um, yes, that’s mine,” he mumbled.

“I want to come with you!”

“WHAT?”

Steve didn’t believe his ears. Faster than the confined space of the car should allow he turned to the other man, facing him head on. He couldn’t help it, but the soldier in him scrutinized Jefferson, took in his fancy clothes, the way he held himself, the open defiance in his jaw and the determination in his eyes. This man was no match for the Winter Soldier. Not at all.

He was a liability at best.

Jefferson squared his shoulders and held his gaze. “I want to come with you!”

_This is madness!_

“No way! This is way too dangerous and…”

“We’re talking about my brother here. I’ve been searching for him for my whole life now. And you are the first lead I finally got. I _won’t_ back down from this. I _need_ to find him!” His hands were balled to fists against his thighs and one of his legs was twitching with tension.

Steve raised his hands in a placating gesture. He needed to make Jefferson see reason.

“Jefferson, please, listen to me. I don’t know if Bucky even remembers anything about his past at the moment. Which makes him more dangerous than you can imagine. He’s a trained assassin, a master with all kinds of firearms and knifes and close combat. Add super-human strength to that mixture and his arm…” Steve suddenly realized that he hadn’t mentioned Bucky’s metal arm to Jefferson yet. “He’s absolutely deadly. You’re a civilian. And you have a daughter who needs you. Taking you with me is a risk I’m _not_ willing to take.”

If Steve had hoped to see understanding in the other man’s eyes he’d hoped in vain.

Instead Jefferson grabbed Steve’s raised hands and pushed them down again, fixing him with the full force of his blue eyes.

“You don’t _understand_!” he spoke slowly, forming each word carefully and with precision. “I _failed_ him. I lost him. And now he’s out there, alone and lost. I _have_ to do this. He’s my _brother_!“

“Jefferson,“ Steve tried again, but he was cut short again.

“Steve, I _will_ go out looking for him. The only question is: do I have to go alone or are we going to find Bucky together?”

Steve stared at Jefferson. A man too stubborn for his own good. Who didn’t know when it was smarter to step down from something. Qualities that reminded him of Bucky. His brother. His twin.

Now he knew how Bucky must have felt like as he had tried to dissuade a young and skinny Steve from trying to join the war. He could understand Bucky’s side now, but he’ll always identify with the courage and stubbornness of that skinny version of himself.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, his muscles relaxing under the other man’s grip. When he faced Jefferson again it was with appreciation and a fond smile on his lips.

 _I will regret this. I will_ so _regret this._

“Alright, I guess I have no choice then.”

 

(TBC)


	9. Leaving Storybrooke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's last hours in Storybrooke before he's leaving again.

It was almost 4pm.

Steve was uneasy, every tiny part of him wanted to leave, to get on the road and search for his friend, but Jefferson had asked him to stay for a few more hours so he could take care of some things.

He understood that, but he felt the urge to _move_ nonetheless.

Especially since Natasha’s call only twenty minutes ago. There had been reports of an explosion near Portage Lake in the north of Maine. Nat had linked the location to a former S.H.I.E.L.D. research base – now most likely Hydra.

It was a long shot, but maybe Bucky was connected to the events there.

He really needed to get going!

At least the day had gone by surprisingly quick. He’d spent the morning with a long and curious stroll through town, keeping his eyes open for anything odd. Anything that might tell him something about the special history of this town and its inhabitants.

But there wasn’t much to go by, or at least nothing obvious.

After a lunch at the diner he studied his map of Maine, not sure what exactly he was looking for. It couldn’t hurt to get a feeling for the area, though. The waitress never let him out of her sight for long, scrutinizing him skeptically.

_Red Riding Hood._

It still sounded strange, even just thinking it – but it somehow seemed fitting as he looked at her now, _knowing_. She certainly loved the color red judging by her outfit. There was, however, something fierce about her. Something that refused to correspond with the naïve and innocent child he’d always imagined when hearing the story.

Afterwards he strolled back towards a shop he’d found earlier. It was a biker-shop. Some motorcycles were out front on display, others inside, but mostly they sold equipment of all sorts. The name was odd, though: The Flying Carpet.

Steve had sorted it as strange but it didn’t ring a bell with him.

He’d just purchased what he’d needed, chatting a bit with the cheerful owner who looked Arabic if he hadn’t been mistaken.

He was looking at his watch again when a car stopped only a few yards away.

Jefferson and Grace emerged from the back while a middle aged couple got out of the front. Jefferson turned to them and said something. The woman hugged him fiercely while the man only clapped his shoulder as if to wish him luck.

Grace followed him as he headed towards him, a backpack on one shoulder.

Steve cringed. This guy really had no idea what he was getting into. He was still wearing his shirt-vest-cravat combo instead of something more practical. At least something that looked like a leather jacket was pinned against the backpack at one side and he’d changed into sturdy looking boots.

Jefferson stopped in front of him, Grace on the other hand stepped past her father and fixed Steve with her blue eyes. “Keep him safe, okay?”

Only a slight hitch in her voice betrayed her feelings. That and the pleading in her somewhat red eyes.

Steve nodded solemnly. “I will. I promise!“

„Good,“ she nodded.

Jefferson gently pulled her away and leaned down a bit so their eyes were level with each other.

“I don’t have to do this, Grace. Say just one word and I’ll stay.” His voice sounded strained, leaving his daughter behind was hard on him. Harder than Steve had thought. After the determination Jefferson had displayed this morning he was surprised to hear that he would call this off for Grace. It must be hard to be trapped like this between two people that you love.

The girl shook her head vehemently. “No, Papa. You have to go! He’s your brother. He’s family! And I…“ She swallowed. „I know you’ll come back for me. You _will_ come back!“

„Oh Grace,“ he sighed, voice almost breaking. With one quick motion he straightened and pulled her close. “Of course I’ll come back! I failed you once. I won’t fail you again.”

Her arms held him tightly as she pressed her face against his chest. Jefferson buried his nose in her hair, his fingers clenching and unclenching before he could bring himself to let her go again. They both had tears running down their cheeks when they parted.

“Find him! I wanna meet my uncle!” With a last wistful smile on her lips she stepped back, away from his embrace and back towards the couple that was waiting at the car. Most likely the people that would take care of her while her father was gone. “Love you, Papa!”

“I love you, Grace!”

The man squared his shoulders as he turned around, steeling himself for actually leaving. With a jerky motion he wiped the tears from his face and released his breath, as if he could expel his doubts and uncertainty at his actions that way.

“Let’s do this!” Despite all the emotional turmoil on his face the determination was back in his voice.

Steve stepped up to his bike and as he saw the other man coming close he held out the motorcycle jacket he’d bought earlier.

“I won’t let you hop on without at least some kind of protection. I know it’s not your style but it’ll do the job.”

The black mesh looked a bit bulky and grey and white lines run from the shoulders down the sleeves. But given the circumstances it would do quite nicely.

Jefferson took it without hesitation although deep lines marked his brow. “Who said I care about style?”

 _Seriously?_ Steve only raised an eyebrow refraining from any further comment.

At that moment a car came around the next corner and stopped abruptly at the side of the street right next to them.

“Jefferson, wait!”

A woman got out of the vehicle, clad in a severe looking black ladies’ suit, rushing towards them. Her dark hair was accurately done even though she seemed to be in quite a hurry. She was panting a bit as she finally stopped in front of them.

“Regina?!” Jefferson exclaimed. „What- what are you doing here?“

“I’m glad I caught you in time. Give me your left hand.”

“Why?”

“Oh, just give it to me!” she snarled irritated.

Jefferson laid the jacket over the bike and held out his left hand for her, his movements hesitant and his gaze wary.

“Regina?”

The woman grabbed his hand in a firm grip as she pushed the cuff of his sleeve back a bit with her other hand until his stone pendant was revealed. With one quick motion she pulled out a very small vial – she must have held it in her palm all the while – popped the lid with her thumb and poured a few drops of _something_ onto the stone.

Jefferson tried to pull back, fear flashing in his eyes for a second and Steve realized – judging by his reaction – that maybe this woman was a threat in some way, even though he had no idea what she’d just done.

Before he could even take half a step towards her a soft white glow settled around the pendant, encircling Jefferson’s whole hand. Then it just stopped.

“What was _that_?” Steve blinked.

„What did you do?“ Jefferson wanted to know, pulling his hand back hastily as soon as she released it. His thumb started tracing the circular stone shape as if to make sure that it was still the same.

Regina smiled and raised her hands apologetically. “Relax! It’s a memory potion.“

Steve’s eyes grew even wider.

_Magic. That light had been magic!_

“I managed to… _obtain_ some. It’s the same Gold used when he left for New York.”

Jefferson tilted his head to the side, clearly confused. “But- you said this morning that the town line should be safe. That there should be nothing hindering us from leaving since Snow hadn’t intended it in her curse. Was that a lie?”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was following anymore. What was going on with the town line?

Who was this woman? And why had Jefferson been almost afraid of her actions?

Regina shook her head, slightly exasperated. “No, it wasn’t. But you never know with this town. Something could happen while you’re away. I don’t want you to run around in this world and suddenly wake up without your memory.”

Jefferson looked absolutely taken aback. For a moment he stared down at the pendant at his wrist, before he fixed his blue eyes back on her, swallowing. “Why?”

Now she actually averted her eyes. A moment ago she’d been the one to have things firmly under control, now on the other hand she seemed uncomfortable, almost sheepish. But it was determination and a certain kind of inner strength that lit her eyes when she looked at him again.

“I took your daughter away from you. Twice. And I’m sorry for that. This time, I’ll make sure that nothing from our world will hinder you in finding your brother.”

Steve opted to take a step back. He sensed no threat from this woman and their conversation seemed very personal. They had a history together, he could feel it in the way they talked, see it in the way they tiptoed around each other.

A disbelieving smile graced Jefferson’s lips. “You really _have_ changed, Regina.”

Shrugging his comment off, she nodded her head towards Steve and the motorcycle. “Now go! Get your family back!”

With a last nod he turned and donned the motorcycle jacket.

Finally in his territory again Steve took the second helmet he’d purchased – including a pair of leather gloves inside it – from the handlebars and threw it into Jefferson’s arms. He put it on and shouldered his backpack, as ready as he’d ever be.

Steve slipped his own helmet on and climbed onto his bike, holding it steady as the other man tried to find a comfortable seat with Steve’s bags on each side of it. His shield had still been where he’d left it so unexpectedly: strapped in front of the handlebars.

“Ever been on a motorcycle before?”

“No.”

Steve grabbed back for Jefferson’s hands and pulled them forward over his stomach. “Then hold on tight!”

He started the engine and rolled past Regina, Grace and the other two until they were on the street. This whole last day had been absolutely crazy. Taking a civilian on his hunt for the Winter Soldier was not just crazy, it was outright stupid.

And still, it felt _right_.

Steve turned his head back to his companion.

“Let’s find Bucky!”

“Where do we start?”

“Portage Lake.”

Jefferson tightened his grip around his middle. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Grinning, Steve let the engine roar and drove them off, taking the turn north.

_Hold on, Buck._

_We’re on our way._

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Flying Carpet" sadly is not part of OUAT, but it would be a nice addition. Just imagine Aladdin selling bikes ;)
> 
> I was thinking about the townline. The way I understood it, there was no memory loss problem while leaving town during the time Snow cast the curse since she didn't intend for it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I had fun writing it!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment :-)  
> Really, I'd love to hear about your opinions!


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